Here It Comes Again
by CampionSayn
Summary: He's alive. He's alive and she's still painted into a corner. Really, she doesn't think she can go through this again. Takes place after The Batman/Superman Movie.


Title: Here It Comes Again  
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or anything affiliated with it. I make no money from writing this. I just enjoy this.  
Summary: He's still alive. He's still alive and she's still painted into a corner. She really doesn't think she can go through this again.

This takes place a little after The Batman/Superman Movie. This is a little look into the mind of Harley Quinn at the discovery that her so-called "Puddin'" manage to crawl out of the Metropolis harbor and get back to Gotham.

* * *

She throws her shoe at the radio and it cuts a few times, then goes dead. The little thing topples off of her coffee table, but she doesn't notice or care as she is now pacing her little hideout. Mass panic fogs her mind, along with minor rage and this horrible emptiness she gets every single time she gets this same news.

Last time she heard this, she was in Arkham talking about Professor Crane's theories on fear with the man himself, her feeling like he was getting better behind Dr. Leland's back now that he was getting closer with Jervis. She had always thought that the reason Jonathon stayed with his theories was because he was lonely, and she was feeling that fabulous uplifting feeling that only happened when she discovered she was right…and then she looked over at the window and saw Bats dragging Joker in. Her smile went up and she asked to be escorted early to her room. Then she vomited in her toilet.

Now, in her tiny little hideout in an abandoned lamp factory—one of the few places none of the other Rogues would bother with—the ex-therapist was contemplating renewing her little game with the clown, cutting the connection for good and/or that nifty little collection of useful narcotics she kept in her safety deposit box downtown.

Every single time she hears that he has escaped Death's limp, useless fingers, she feels like her life is stolen from her again. Like the chance she's had to get out of this nightmare is snuffed out like a candle by those wretched white fingers that have strangled the life out of many others. Though of course, nobody knows this life she has manufactured for others and how hard it is for her to drop it like the ugly, cheap yellow vase she smashed last week for no reason.

So far, it had been seven years. Seven years of working behind the scenes to fix what even darling Leland couldn't fix or do. She listened to her patients who were now her friends and worked slowly, carefully and purely to help them in the best ways she knew how. Leland, Batman, the cops, couldn't possibly understand that this was the only way that the Rogues would ever change. Through another Rogue's help, not _their_ help, another Rogues.

She was smart, lots of people said that to her and they were right, but they never could quite grasp just how smart. When she started treating Joker, she got the joke: He would never listen to her in the form of a doctor he thought believed themselves above him. Neither would the other Rogues. They were too hurt by other "normal" people that they just couldn't listen. So, to put it plainly, she made a plan.

She pretended. She was always good at pretending. She pretended she loved Joker and got him to not necessarily drop all of his defenses but just enough for her to try and make him think she was too stupid to keep some of his more important secrets to himself. It worked, and really well. She knew all about him now. Knew stuff even Bats didn't know. And she put it to good use when she could.

After a while, even the other Rogues let her listen and talk to them. Ivy, Scarecrow and Mad Hatter especially. And they were getting better. Not quickly and not without a little attack on herself mentally, but they were getting better. Every one of them.

Unfortunately, no good deed goes unpunished. Joker, for all of the sadness he kept in him, could not change. And she was stuck. After the first five years she wanted to get out and tried everything to get him to just drop her gently instead of hard. She'd tried getting away after he used her, tried skipping town while he was in Arkham, even tried antagonizing him by helping other Rogues. He had either dragged her back or—and this shouldn't have surprised her, she knew his entire psychological profile after all—tried to kill her.

So, being stuck in her own manufactured Hell, she waited and did what she could. She screwed with his plans, she tried to make sure his escapades retained minimum damage, made sure B-Man always had a way out when she helped Joker do something especially dangerous, etc. She hasn't killed anyone, though, despite any claims to the contrary.

And all the while, she had to play crazy. Not a difficult thing to do, seeing as she observed them for such a long time, but it was still so freaking nerve-wracking. The looks she got from people now made her want to cry or hang her head in shame. Batman and Leland more than most. Leland wondered how she could miss the signs that one of her co-workers was going crazy and Batman, the World's Greatest Detective, couldn't understand her or figure her out.

If only they could see just how far she'd painted herself into a corner…maybe she would make it out of this ordeal alive. It was either that, or wait for Joker to die.

With the whole thing that happened in Metropolis with Superman, she had felt…relieved when that plane went down with the clown in it. She'd played it up until completely hidden within the van to take her back to Arkham, no need to downplay the act just yet, and smiled for real the entire way back.

Then, crossing into the city district just before Gotham, one of her escorts turned on the radio and she heard the news. He was seen spreading laughing gas through the Lexcorp's main building and had disappeared. She asked one of the escorts to allow her a bathroom break at the next exit and, after stepping out of the van, she knocked both of them out, left them safely in the van at the side of the road and bolted for Gotham through the woods.

Still pacing in her hideout Harley finally stopped and slowly sat on the sofa she had scrounged up from the city dump. It was so tiring. Those pills in her safety deposit box looked more inviting by the minute. Just five of them would put her in a coma and she had ten in the bottle. Just in case she couldn't take the beatings and the rape and the general feelings of worthlessness that had become her life.

Oh, and the lying. She hated the lying. To her friends that were her patients and yet not. To herself. To Leland and Batman.

Resting her head in her hands she thought about her last couple of days. Joker's escapades had hit the rocks thanks to Bats (good for him), the clown had struck a deal with Lex Luthor of all people to get rid of Superman (talk about suicide), had almost succeeded (now that was surprising), had been double-crossed by the billionaire (not entirely unexpected given Joker's brash actions), stolen a very lethal plane to blow up half of Metropolis (not surprising to her, but rather fun on her part to watch the bald man sweat with her in the driver's seat for a whole five seconds while Joker and Batman fought) and was rescued again by the Dark Knight as Supes grabbed Lex while Joker somehow managed to survive being blown up by his own damn marble grenades. Very exciting for other people, but just something that led to bruises and cracked bones for herself.

It was kind of funny, really. The only thing from that whole thing she cared to remember was that Mercy chick. Another blond bodyguard for another powerful man. The only real difference between them was that Mercy's guy was actually redeemable and she didn't have to wear face paint with the required uniform.

Hmm. There was something to look into. Maybe she wouldn't take those pills_ just_ yet…


End file.
